On the other side, secular progressives sometimes chafe at Smith’s unwavering faith-based framework. They argue that her reliance on religious language and Islamic law may alienate non-religious allies. Smith’s reply is characteristically direct: “If your liberation doesn’t have room for my hijab, it’s not liberation. It’s just a different cage.” As of 2025, Sharifa Jamila Smith is still very much active, though she has intentionally stepped back from direct media attention to mentor younger organizers. She currently serves as a senior fellow at the Healing Justice Institute and is reportedly working on a book tentatively titled “The Uncolonized Heart: Black Muslim Women Leading the Way.”
Her story reminds us that the most effective leaders are not always those with the largest platforms, but those who quietly build the infrastructure of hope. Sharifa Jamila Smith has spent decades doing exactly that—one formerly incarcerated woman, one cooperative grocery, one healing circle at a time. To search for Sharifa Jamila Smith is to uncover a hidden history of American social justice—a history where faith fuels resistance, where women lead without apology, and where the most vulnerable are centered, not sidelined. As her work continues to ripple outward through reentry programs, economic cooperatives, and spiritual healing spaces, one thing becomes clear: Sharifa Jamila Smith is not just a footnote. She is a chapter yet to be fully read. sharifa jamila smith
Her influence can be seen in the rise of other Black Muslim women leaders—from prison abolitionists to halal food cooperative founders—who cite her workshops and writings as their starting point. A new documentary, “Roses in Concrete,” featuring Smith’s work, premiered at the Sundance Film Festival and is expected to bring her story to a wider audience. In an era of clicktivism and performative allyship, Sharifa Jamila Smith represents the opposite: slow, deliberate, spiritually grounded, and community-accountable work. She does not seek viral moments; she seeks structural change. She does not posture for political power; she redistributes resources to the least of these. On the other side, secular progressives sometimes chafe
For those deep within the circles of restorative justice, Islamic feminism, and interfaith dialogue, the name Sharifa Jamila Smith evokes reverence. For the broader public, however, her contributions remain a hidden treasure. This article seeks to change that. We will explore the life, philosophy, and lasting impact of Sharifa Jamila Smith—a woman whose intellectual and spiritual compass continues to guide a new generation of activists. Sharifa Jamila Smith is an American community organizer, educator, and spiritual counselor whose work bridges the often-divergent worlds of traditional Islamic scholarship and contemporary social justice movements. Born and raised in the Midwest, Smith emerged from a lineage of activists—her grandparents were involved in the Great Migration and early civil rights struggles, planting seeds of resilience that would later bloom in her life’s work. It’s just a different cage
Smith’s unique position is her insistence that one can be both deeply traditional—observing hijab, praying five times daily—and radically progressive on issues of gender justice. She has famously said, “The Prophet (PBUH) was a feminist. If your Islam makes you silent in the face of a woman’s oppression, check your sources, not your heart.” Smith argues that true liberation requires economic independence. To that end, she launched the Sakinah Community Cooperative in 2020, a worker-owned grocery and café in a Detroit food desert. Drawing on the Islamic prohibition of riba (usury/interest), the cooperative is funded entirely through zakat (charity) converted into qard hasan (benevolent loans). Members pay back over time with no interest, and profits are reinvested into the community.